11
For lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone.
12
The flowers appear on the earth; The time of singing has come, And the voice of the turtledove Is heard in our land.
13
The fig tree puts forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grapes Give a good smell. Rise up, my love, my fair one, And come away!
14
"O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the secret places of the cliff, Let me see your face, Let me hear your voice; For your voice is sweet, And your face is lovely."
15
Her Brothers Catch us the foxes, The little foxes that spoil the vines, For our vines have tender grapes.
16
The Shulamite My beloved is mine, and I am his. He feeds his flock among the lilies.
17
(To Her Beloved) Until the day breaks And the shadows flee away, Turn, my beloved, And be like a gazelle Or a young stag Upon the mountains of Bether.